DeathNote: The Reetz Chronicals CH1
by Alex-Is-Desu
Summary: This is a detailed fictional novel about my journey with the Death Note. When Alex's Grandfather, Harold Reetz kills himself for a unknown reason. while his family get's money, a car, and a new kitchen from his will, Alex get's something money can't buy.


Death Note:

The REETZ Chronicles

†

_Chapter 1: Will_

"_The Beginning is always can be predicted as the end. One flaw in the character's view-point can determine what is right and wrong can basically tell the end. So it's up to the writer to break normal predictions to make a great story..."_

I read the context of the textbook as instructed and sat back down in my des, where I was greeted from my colorful array of Friends whom enjoy making random jokes as a sign of a job well done.

"Alex, you kick Chuck Norris ass!"

As he said aloud, to piss off the teacher with every shot he had to talk. Whom I am talking about is Ethan; a long and almost role model of a friend who seems to hover by as a shield so I could talk him out of trouble.

The Teacher walked to his battle scared desk and leaned over his shoulder.

"Ethan, that is a bad word, may I contact your parent to refresh your memory of that rule?"

"Go ahead." , Ethan carelessly aloud her.

She did want to bother with a worthless chat, and walked back to her desk; it was about ten minutes before this period end, so the class was packing up and chatting, which keeps up from becoming slaves to are school like religion we are force to comply with.

Ethan wasn't the only clown in the class that hangs out with me; there was also Kenny, the clone of myself with a lace of emotional connections with girlfriends, which bugs me because he has a different one every time we meet. (And is always dumped or vice versa.) I met Kenny from trailing with Ethan, as little said; all I know is that he is emotional and I am somewhat addicted to those kinds of humans because I get cocky and help them out.

And I am a failure at it…

It was a normal, boring day all I can say, As in I was writing my fictional stories, Ethan was writing his funny WHEAST-BOY™ comics and novels which was more funnier then a midget-panda with no limbs suck on a rock laced with acid, and Kenny was normally mopping over a girl that recently cheated on him.

I dropped my overused pencil and patted me sweaty hand on his shoulder.

"Kenny, you really need to stop letting casual things like this to eat you alive." I let out.

He lifted his head, eyes watery and moist with tears, and shot a unfair blow at me,

"ALEX! You have never had a girlfriend or been though the pain, so why don't you mind your business and leave me alone!"

I was surprised by his attack at my virginity, but regained my posture and faked a caring smile.

"Don't Insult me, my friend, I am only trying to help."

"Let him be emo, he is bound to fall back in love with another faceless soul and quickly change his attitude." Ethan broke out of the silent of the conversation. Then he laughed,

"Why don't you become gay?"

I laughed, but the insulted thought other wise.

"Ethan, Shut up!"

"Okay." Ethan replied, "I will wait until you do."

"Why are we friends again?" he asked.

"It is because you will be lonely without us, just a lonely kid with girls as friends." I put my two senses in.

It ended with a knuckle of hate embedded into my face and blood leaking from my inflicted nose.

"Alex, shut the hell up."

"Oka-"

Ethan reached into his book bag, or "Bag of Gayness", and pulled out a cluster of toilet paper he uses to decorate the classroom before having a seat and placed it on my desk.

"Here you go."

I thanked him and sticked a rolled up wad into my bleeding nostril.

"Kenny just needs silence at this point, just leave him alone."

"But I want to help him!"

"You are cocky; you can't cure the sorrow of an infected wound like of his. Until be faces reality and turns gay, he will not be happy."

I am Cocky..? That is a rather unfair stab to my way of life. Perhaps he is right, but it makes me feel like crap being told that. Things that consist of a normal day were quickly killed from Kenny's temperness. Things that are different make the whole day different. Everyone seems to seclude into silence until the rising sun wakes us up the next day.

The day was spoiled, to say simply and the air was filled with pressure that lowered are heads.

But what came next was a blow to the chest. Unexpectedly, my small and humble sister slammed the heavy wooden classroom doors open like it was a feather and yelled annoyingly,

"Miss Davis! Alex needs to be dismissed for a family emergency, are parents are waiting for us."

The Teacher sighed uncaringly and I gathered my things with a question mark hovering over my head.

What does she mean by Family Emergency?

"I hope things are okay man, we don't want another emotional sheep with us." Ethan shared his concern with me; or was an insult? I can't tell. I waved goodbye with a smile and then turned concerned when I walked out of the classroom into the dead, hollow hallway.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"I am going to tell you strait forward." She then sighed and stopped walking. She was fouling my concept of my sister, which always seems to enlighten me when I was emotionally vexed.

"Just Spill it out!" I demanded.

"He is dead."

Confusions and worry filled me instantly.

"Who is dead?"

I Stopped and gripped her shoulders.

"Grandpa Harold is dead."

"How did he die?" I asked slowly let go of her.

"We don't have time, Mom and Dad is waiting in the car. The funeral is today!"

Jessica, her name, took me by the hand and whisked me away to the parent's car and it being a seldom and quite sad trip, we headed to the cemetery. I was really beat down about this, because he always wanted me to come to his house and to hand out…but a few weeks ago, I got mad and out casted him because I was forced to do chores instead of just 'hanging out'; but oddly enough, I do moan his death because I was the only one who really knew him except for my father.

And needless to say, no one really liked him.

We dropped by the morgue and my parents rushed out of the car, while my sister and I Slowly walked out and briefly followed by. My dad was crying, which was a really showing a mask that I never seen from him. What I mean is my father is normally high-strong and strict, not depressed. For someone I always complain about in the shadows, he is really surprising me.

"Listen Alex, I just want you to act normal. Don't act stupid, and don't start fights."

"Understandable."

That was until we opened the door to the morgue and found a sharply dressed man sitting at the end of a long meeting table. He was really expensive looking with his classy sports jacket and gold framed eyeglass. He was sharply trimmed and what really surprised me was what was inside the room. To the left was aLamborghini neatly parked in the corner and a newly made mobile home, along with a box in the corner that was named "Said items of Harold's Will".

"This is the will meeting? I thought this was a funeral."

My dad replied,

"He died the same day you left….it was a suicide."

I freaked out.

"WHAT THE HELL, IF HE DIED THAT LONG AGO, WHY IN THE FUCK WE WEREN'T NOT TOLD ABOUT THIS!!"

"-Because that's what he wanted...He wrote a suicide note he left with the police at the scene and asked to wait a while before we could be verified. He wanted to be secretly buried out of the country, I don't know why."

"Now, I know it may feel demeaning for him to do that" the sharply dressed men silenced are discussion. Then he looked a paper he held in hand and said," but by reading his will, he could possibly be the nicest will I ever read. Now can everyone take a seat so we can hurry this up?"

We complied, pulled out a seat, and sat in a professional manner.

"This isn't an official will, but since it was with him at the scene, I am entitled to read it"

The Man then cleared his throat and then lifted the one paper and incited its contents,

"I, Harold Wayne Reetz; sound in mind, body and soul, unofficially State my will to everyone I ever cared about, which is only my son's family, I shamefully say. I am also sorry for my sudden plans to kill myself, and I won't disclose the reason for it, but all I can tell you is, It is no one's fault; Now for what I left for my son's family. To Start, I like to state that I had a hidden fortune of halve a million dollars that I want to divide the money in sections of four as well as some gifts I want to give you that I believe will help you in the future, or because I feel you will like it-"

Everyone sat in awe as anyone who just received 1 million dollars, but still had a blank and confused expression. For some unexplained reason, he commuted suicide.

What a selfish act to do.

He Continued,

"First off, is my son; when you were a kid, the only thing I heard you talk about is cars, and as a token for being there when the others out casted me, I give a brand new, factory made Lamborghini convertible."

My dad had a mixed face about the car, as he always wanted one; he seemed to be confused like me. I knew he felt the same. Why would he kill himself?

"Second, is his beautiful wife, Chris Reetz, for treating my son with the upmost respect and making him happy, I put aside a few thousand dollars so you can redecorate your household, because you always tell me on the phone on how you always wanted a better house, but never wanted to move."

She smiled to her present; I think she didn't see the flaw in this story…

"-and Thirdly, My granddaughter Jessica Reetz; you always told me you wanted to be in law enforcement, so I am giving you a one hundred thousand dollars to go to any police academy she wishes; and by pulling ties, she can leave whenever she wants the parents accept her to."

Jessica broke the somewhat seldom mood of the morgue by screaming in joy and waving her arms like a monkey on drugs, then she caught her public disturbance and quietly sat back down, saying, "Sorry".

"And lastly, my Grandson"

My ears widened. I was curious what he left me. I looked at the announcer and gave him my attention.

"-I leave you something that will help you with your wishes."

I was confused? What problems? He couldn't know about my current problems.

Then the man leaned towards the box beside him and pulled out a rectangular, locked box and carelessly threw it to me.

"Alex may not open this until he is alone."

Great…he gave me type of sexual magazine of something. I felt uncertain about what ever it is, and I get stuck with locked box.

I guess he really did hate me for what I did; at least I have 250,000 dollars…

When we arrived home, my dad secluded himself in his room and my sister began to find a collage that will accept her. My mother was talking to contractors on the phone to redecorate the kitchen and I was in my computer with the really light-weight, locked box beside me.

Periodically, I found myself looking at the lock-box, wondering what is inside it. He was so mad at me, there wasn't even a key with it, or and classification whatsoever. Everyone got nice things, but I was stuck with a lock without a key.

I continued surfing the internet until the anxiety and curiosity got the best of me and pulled out my homemade lock picking kit I made out of with a grinding machine and bow-saw replacement blades, from my computer desk and pulled the chest towards me to observe the keylock.

"Fine Grandpa, I guess I have to use my crafty tools to open it"

I pulled out a force wrench and a one lock pick and began to push down all the pegs in the key socket. Then using the force wrench, I slowly moved the lock and took all the tools out; I unlocked it. I neatly put all the tools back in the duck-tape case I made for it and then placed my fingers on the side of the now unsealed opening and peered inside. Hidden inside the box, was a long piece of white rice paper with old writing on it.

It read,

"Do not touch or move this paper_! It may only be moved by my son's _last born son_. By ripping or removing the paper, you accept all responsibilities and ownership of it. You may also use it in any fashion you decide to use it. If you are not said person, you will pay the price by death within the first _39_ days of touching the contents beyond this paper._

_-Harold Reetz -_ 1959"

1959? This is the date starting the beginning of the Vietnam War? Was this written when he was in the war over 49 years ago? And why did he address that only his son's last born son may remove the paper. I knew there was something under the paper, but the paper above it was taped to the sides, meaning I had to rip the paper. By reading this, it seems like some type of voodoo item of some kind, but since I am said person, I am aloud to move the paper and look to see what it is.

I tried to carefully pull off the old, cemented tape, but it was hard to pull the tape off without digging my fingers under the old paint, into rust, so I opened my computer dresser drawer and pulled out a letter opener and slowly penetrated the very top of the taped paper and made a quarter sized line, enough for me to place my index finder and my ring finger and lift up the top zipper part of a plastic baggie.

My assumption was it some delicate item, like some brittle object, and finally having some room to pull it out without ripping the paper,

I pulled out a black notebook that was cradled in the plastic bag.

I stared at it in confusion, and noticed, in bold, white print it read,

'DEATH NOTE'.

The covers of this textbook had a flesh-like texture that felt rough though under the plastic.

This seemed to be a form of a joke?

It had to be!

The notebook seemed be old, but it looked strong enough to be handled normally. The only defects were random signs of wear of the covers.

This seemed to be an odd joke, but something possessed me to unzip the bag and pulled the note book out; holding it in both hands.

I felt an odd chill when I touched cover, and made me feel uneasy, but I bushed it off and stood there, holding the book.

Why is it called,' DEATH NOTE'?

I opened the notebook to the first page to find a series of 4 pages, all colored black, enlisted a series of texts, with the header,' How To Use."

'The person whose name is written in this note shall die. ', The first sentence read. I laughed, my grandfather was always humorous.

How could that be even possible? Out of curiosity, I read the second sentence.

'This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected.'

Pretty detailed stuff, as I skimmed across the manual part of the notebook, it seemed too good to be true.

It was a load of shit.

I tossed the notebook across my room and continued to surf the web on my laptop.

Does he really expect me to believe that supernatural crap?

Ugh.

The next day, I was burdened by, making fun of me because my sister is leaving school. Kenny was down and depressed, as usual.

I wish I could help him.

"Ha, ha, ha, your grandpa must have hated you." Ethan laughed.

"Shut up already."

"No! This is really funny. Your grandfather gave your sister money and a pardon to go to any collage she wants to, effective immediately and you just got a notebook."

"I SAID SHUT UP!" I pounded my fists on the desk.

"My Grandfather loved me more then anyone in my family, there must be a reason why I was given that notebook."

My sister did come to school today, to merely say goodbye to her friends, I was left to continue a normal day, like nothing happened.

Suddenly, Kenny Stood out got up and left the classroom in an angry manner.

"What's wrong with him?"I asked as Kenny slammed the door.

Ethan sighed and replied,

"Kenny's girlfriend only dated him to get another guy jealous. It worked, and to end it off with him, she made a fool of him by humiliating him in front of the whole school."

I sighed; I was pretty useless at this point

I had to help him, but I didn't know how. I felt like a nothing, sitting in my desk, while my world began to collapse.

My sister was going to become a success she always wanted to be, my father had the car of his dreams, my mom was happy with her new, soon to be, kitchen, and I was left with a gag gift from my grandfather.

If I can't have a good life, fine! I will try my hardest to make other people's lives better and I will start off with helping Kenny!

I pushed everything off my school desk and walked out of the classroom. Ethan seemed to show signs of protest, but I ignored him to help my friend in need. I walked down the dead hallway for a moment until I found the broken down Kenny; his head was smashed against a series of lockers, which left his face covered in blood from his shattered glasses. He was really broken down, as he seemed to be unaffected by the pain.

"Kenny, are you alright?" I asked.

Kenny dug his face into the bloody steel of the locker's steel.

"I just can't take it anymore!'

"Kenny, it is not that bad, she is just a girl."

"No, I want her to disappear!"

I was shocked, so I tried to talk him out of it.

"You can't just-"

Kenny grabbed me by my shoulders and yelled,

"If you want to help me, you can make sure I will never see that girl again!"

"Kenny, you want me to-"

"If you want to make me happy, you will make it so I never have to deal with her again! Hack the school's database and put her in another school, or get her expelled or something, I just want to be free from her."

To tell you the truth, I lied about being a hacker, I just thought it would be a good excuse to why I am on the computer most of my life.

"Alright, so what do you want me to do?"

Then, he said three words that sent a chill down my spine,

"I want you to kill her!"

"Kenny, that's extreme!"

He reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet and gave me a wallet sized picture of a girl with short blonde hair and brown eyes.

"Her name is Shelly Ingrovite, if you can't kill here, at least try to get her into another school."

I shakily took the picture from Kenny and he smiled,

"I thank you and will not ask any questions if anything happens."

He wiped the blood and tears from his face and walked out of my sight; leaving me standing with a sense of guilt.

I could try to hack the school's attendance list, but I don't know the first thing about hacking databases. As I held the photo in my hand, I felt like I could try something, but that was just pure fictional nonsense!

Could I really use my grandfather's gift in this situation?

I mean, if it works, there will be no way I could be blamed for her death, but it would be the same as wishing on a shooting star, and if it works, will I be a killer?

_  
'The person whose name is written in this note shall die. '_

'_This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected.'_

Those 'rules' rang into my head as I pondered the thought of using the 'Death Note', but if it really works, and she dies, I would be a murderer.

If this works, my grandpa could have given me the ultimate weapon.

I stood there frozen in thought, as I thought of plan of action, and finally gave in.

I will use the Death Note.

The lunch bell rang and instead of heading to lunch, I retrieved my book bag from my locker and headed toward the bathroom, where I locked myself n a stall and unzipped my book bag; inside a mailing envelope, my grandfather's gift.

I began to sweat, as I just stared at the notebook for a good ten minutes, if this works, I could make Kenny happy, but I will be killing a person I don't know.

I would lose all my morals and go insane after this? Would I become power-hungry and use it for my personal gain? Or would it do nothing, and Kenny would kill himself.

The thought of losing my friend felt like the end of the world to me.

I reached into my bag again and pulled out a professional looking writing pen, which I only used for my novels, but if this works, this wouldn't be in vain.

I sat down on the dirty stall, pulled out the picture of Shelly Ingrovite, and opened the Death Note until I reached paper that looked like normal notebook paper.

Am I really going to do this?

I inspected the details of the photo of Shelly Ingrovite; Her short, cruelly blonde hair, her seductive. Brown eyes, her chubby, let skinny face.

I could do, I could experiment my grandfather's gift with this girl!

Picturing the image I just inspected, I placed the tip of the ballpoint pen against the first like of the paper and wrote, "_Shelly Ingrovite" _with my eyes closed. Picturing her image in my mind, as the rule stated.

I put the pen down about four minutes later to found the girl's name neatly written inside.

If this works, does that mean I just sealed her fate?

I put everything into my book bag and hurried out of the bathroom, but after a minute of walking, I feel to the ground, feeling sick.

Did…did I just force myself to write something that could of just sealed someone's fate?

I got up, took a good sigh, and headed to lunch.

At the lunch table, which we normally eat outside, I sat down with Ethan and one of my other friends named Anthony. Anthony was Ethan's friend, who owned a band that is co-run by Ethan called," Deaf Meadow". Anthony had long curly hair and was a little on the portly side.

I had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, which I have every single day for lunch, while Ethan hade a ham a cheese sandwich, and Anthony had a turkey leg.

I still felt nervous, I was shaky from writing the girls name in the notebook, even though it couldn't really happen, and I felt like scum because it could not be false.

Anthony Suddenly spoke to me,

"I heard about what happen with your grandfather, I am sorry to hear that."

I Smiled,

"It's okay; just don't talk about it so much."

Ethan bit into his sandwich, and smiled,

"I know you are really beat up by this turn of events, but at least you got the money, and good memories."

"That's true."

Then, Anthony asked,

"So, what did you get?"

My heart sink, I couldn't tell him I got a detailed gag gift that could actually not be a gag, and named Death Note, so I told him,

"I got writing supplies, for my book I am writing."

I used my constant story writing as a trump card; and it seemed to work.

"That sucks, but it will help you in the long run." Anthony replied.

"That's true." Ethan said," And we can't wait to see it. I hope you can help me with my WHEAST-BOY™ book someday."

"I will be glad to Ethan."

Then, not far from my hearing range, I hear an ambulance siren from in front of the school. I felt nervous, as I thought of the worse. I moved my head away from the table and threw up.

Was I really that nervous?

"Alex, are you okay?"

I recollected myself and replied,

"Yeah, I am just getting tired of eating these sandwiches everyday."

I got sick? Was it because that there could be a possibility that it could have just happened.

Could Shelly Ingrovite really be dead?

GET IT TOGETHER! That is impossible!

I threw my lunch into the trash and laid my head on the lunch table, until the bell rang and we all headed to Social Studies.

Are teacher, Coach Jackson, was a really laid-back teacher. As we copied notes from the projector, he would jokingly review over the notes and playful fashion.

"…Why we took the Indian's land was mainly because we thought they inferior to have it, but we called it the 'Great Migration' and blamed it on god."

I laughed inside, he was really funny.

I copied the notes down, and when I was about to put my Social Studies folder back into my book bag, I found the Death Note staring back at me.

I recalled me writing her name, and the ambulance siren screaming in my mind.

If this was a gag gift, then why do I feel so guilty? If this notebook was the book of death, then that would mean that I really killed her.

And my grandfather gave me the ultimate weapon ever known to man kind.

I began to shake, but took a calm sigh and continued studying.

Then, I freaked out. I began to hear a raspy laughter in the back of my mind, followed by a cold chill down my spine.

Was I losing my mind?

"You're reacting just like him."

I was shocked; I was hearing voices of someone with a raspy, almost demonic voice. I looked over my shoulder, and saw everyone else was merely studying.

I am going insane!

To keep my mind off of it, I pulled out my book called 'The Glory Days' and read it until my uneasiness faded away.

It is my most prized and idolized book I have ever written and I hope for it to be popular some day.

For the rest of the school day, I just remained out casted by everyone else and read my book. When the last bell rang, I headed outside to wait for my father to pick me up from school.

That was when Kenny walked up to me.

"Alex, have you seen Shelly today?"

I felt guilty again.

"No, why do you ask? I will try to hack the school records to place her in a different school, but I can't guarantee it."

"I didn't see her at lunch, it's odd."

Great, does that mean that it…no, it couldn't have? I shouldn't jump to conclusions like that. She must have gone home early or something.

I heard the laughter again.

Who the hell was laughing? Is it just my imagination?

"I hope she is gone for good, at least I didn't have to deal with her today." Kenny responded.

The trees we normally wait at began to shake, as a long silence casted it's self a pone us.

"Kenny, I hope you will feel better soon."

Kenny smiled,

"Thanks Alex, you're a good person."

I might be a good person, but if my fears are proven, then will I be classified as a murderer?

After ten minutes of waiting, my father's brand new Lamborghini drove by the sidewalk and honked its horn two times; signaling me to get in the car. I gathered my things and waved goodbye to Kenny.

When I got into the car, I was greeted by my father.

"Hey Alex, How are you today."

I replied,

"I am fine, how are you."

"I am good, but I can't linger on my father's death for so long, so I decided to put my kids first."

"That's good to hear."

After a while of driving, I built up the courage to ask him,

"Don't you think your dad's suicide is fishy?"

He drove off the road and slammed on the brakes. He was sweating franticly and began to cry.

"You think that way too?"

"Yeah, he was a proud and happy man, this doesn't make sense!"

I patted him on the back, and he looked at me in a worried way. I never seem him like this. So emotional; showing his true feelings.

"We shouldn't think about this father why don't we live and praise him for the good things he done to us and what a good life he had."

My dad lowered his head,

"Your right, but I feel really bad about his sudden plans to kill himself."

"Please, for the sake of are family, just forget about it and continue with your life."

He sighed,

"It will take some time, but I loved my father, and the thought of him killing himself is heart retching."

"Don't worry about, for the sake of your family, forget about it." I yelled.

"Okay, let's go home Alex."

We backed up out of the grassland and headed home. There was an uneasy silence for the rest of the drive home, but for the sake of are family, I hope he will calm down.

When I arrived home, Jessica dashed out of the house and waited for us to walk up to her. My father was still shaky, but like me, he was able to hide it.

"Alex, Dad, Guess what!"

We looked at her in a confused way, and replied at almost the same time,

"What is it Jessica?"

"I got accepted into Westwood Collage!"

My Father hugged her while I stood in awe.

"I am proud of you, Sweet daughter of mine!"

That tears it! I can't stand to see my family bask in success while I stand here with nothing and the guilt of grandfather's death on my shoulders.

"That's nice sister! Well, I am going to go lay down, I had a hard at school day."

Jessica smiled and gave me a hug, but I pushed her off.

She whined,

"Alex, Why did you do that for"

My Father replied for me,

"Alex is still beaten up about my father's death; just leave him alone until the time being."

"Okay, I am Sorry for anything I might have done."

"It's okay."

To tell you the truth, I was more beat up of actually writing the lass's name into the Death Note. I do not know why something so fake could beat me up. I moved my sister out of my way and headed to my room, locking the door.

I threw my thing on my bed and did my daily routine of logging on to the internet and surfed until I heard the raspy voice again.

"He, he, he, you will be surprised tomorrow."

I jumped from my seat and yelled,

"Shut up!'

I heard a second of laughter, and then the voices stopped.

Am I going crazy!

I continued to surf the web until midnight, when I began to feel my guilt again.

She could be dead, and it is my fault.

Then, I grew curious and wondered,

'Does the internet have anything on Death-Note?'

I went to a search engine and searched 'Death Note.' After a second of waiting, the search revealed only one link.

'Forgotten Myths-The Death Note'

This caught my eye, so I quickly clicked on it.

The page loaded up, but the article was not that long.

" _The __DEATH-NOTE_

_This is one of the most far-fetched myths I ever heard of. It is believed that this is the sickle of the grim reapers. Anyone's name that is written inside this book shall die. This myth was proven false though, because during the Vietnam War, a group of people found this notebook in the deserts of Vietnam, but when they tried it out, they found it, it was a scam placed by weary travelers as a joke, over a hundred have been found, and they are all regular notebooks. A really cute joke! _"

Well that tears it! I felt my heart recover and I felt a little bit better.

I guess my grandfather was one of theses people whom found one. I guess that means I could sell this for a pretty penny.

But, I still feel like my grandfather played me for a foul.

I placed everything that was on my bed on the floor and decided to hit the hay. I could of thought that I heard laughing in my room, but I casted that aside and went to sleep.

The next day, I didn't want to go to school. I knew what the web article said, but I still felt uneasy to find out what would be the outcome of today.

I forced myself to get dressed and gathered my things to rush out the day; I was already ten minutes late.

I ended up having to take the bus, because my mother was asleep and my sister was as well. When I arrived at the bus, it seemed that everyone was depressed, only the popular kids were upset, but it was most of the kids on the bus. I sat down by myself in the back of the seat and eavesdropped on the others.

"I heard it was so sudden!"

"I can't believe this happened!"

"So, it happened at lunch?"

"I did hear she had an eating disorder…"

This was uncomfortable, I didn't know what they were talking about, and I was too afraid to ask who they were talking about.

I looked out the windows of the bus until we got to the school, and for some reason, Kenny was waiting for me by the tree we always hang out at. A gathered my thing and as I left the bus, I heard the laughing again.

I walked up to Kenny, but he rushed to me first.

"Alex, did you hear!"

"Wha…what do you mean?"

"It's so great!"

I have never seen Kenny so happy, I wonder what happened.

"Why are you so happy today?"

"It happened!"

"She is gone!"

I felt my world collapse.

"What do you mean?"

"She is dead Alex, She is dead!"

I heard the laughter come alive again, this time; it was louder and satanic.

I began to freak!

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE IS DEAD!?"

"She had a heart attack during lunch."

She died form a heart attack?

The laughter grew louder!

"She died from a Heart Attack!?"

"I don't know how, but the school has been shaken by her death. I frankly don't give a rat's butt; she is finally gone, and we didn't have to lift a finger!"

The Laughter grew ear-piercingly loud!!

This can't be happening. Did the Death Note Actually kill her?

"What did the police say?"

"They Say it was a random heart attack, I freak of nature!"

Could the Death Note Really have killed her! Or was just an odd possibility?

"No Alex. It was the Death Note…"

The raspy voice whispered into my ear.

I went berserk! I moved Kenny out of the way and ran into the outside bathroom, locking myself inside.

This can't be happening!

This can't be happening!

This can't be happening!

I KILLED SHELLY INGROVITE!

I felt my live pass by before my eyes as I opened my book bag and stared doomly at the Death Note, which I shakily held in my sweaty hand.

I can't believe it actually worked! Why would my Grandfather give me this weapon!

"Because, he wanted you to make your dreams come true."

I looked into the mirror to find a green skinned man in a leather jacket staring at me with red eyes; laughing.

I flew backwards and fell to the ground.

What the hell was that thing!

I opened my eyes and saw the figure staring down at me, with a demonic smile on his face.

I panicked and was about to scream.

"WHO ARE YOU!?"

He laughed and replied,

"Is that the way you greet one of your grandfather's friends?"

I began to calm down a little, but I was still scared.

He had greenish, rotting skin with insects living inside holes in his body, he wore a heavy black leather jacket with tattered black leather pants. He had a necklace of an upside-down cross around his neck and a belt buckle of a skull. He had wide, bloody eyes and a red Mohawk as a hairstyle and he had the odor of death on him.

What the hell was he?

"Who…Who are you!"

He lent out a helping hand to offer to help me up,

"I am a good friend of your grandfather; my name is Jazz."

I never mention him telling me of him before; and he doesn't even look human!

"What are you?"

He smiled and pointed at the gift from my grandfather,

"I am the guardian of that notebook, I am to make watch over it until it is destroyed, or able to be taken back to my world."

This was not making any sense.

"What do you mean your world?"

"I am also a Shinigami."

That the European meaning for the word-

"Yes Alex, God of Death!"

I knew it; I was going to die for having his notebook!

"Please, don't kill me!"

I dropped the notebook and scooted it to him,

"I will return it to you, you can have it!"

Jazz looked at me, then laughed,

"I have not been in ownership of this notebook in over fifty years! Your grandfather was the first to find this notebook in the human area called Vietnam."

"What do you mean?"

I was Scared and really confused.

"I mean, since he gave it to you, and you are clearly his grandson, it belongs to you!"

"You mean-"

He laughed,

"That's right little Alex, you own the reaper's notebook!"

He laughed satanically, and sat on my bum. Is he saying that this notebook is no longer his, but is in my rightful ownership?

"as soon as that notebook touched earth, it became the rightful owner of whom ever found it first, and since the original owner, your grandfather, gave it to you-"

"It is now legally my rightful belonging..." I cut him off.

"Bingo! That's unless, you don't want to have it. But if that's the case, I will erase your mind and you will continue your life as a normal human being."

"What is the catch?"

He laughed,

"Two things: you can not go to heaven or hell, and if you are about to die, I get to write your name in my notebook."

He suddenly opened his mouth and pulled out another Death Note. It was kind gross, but for some reason, I did not fear him anymore.

"And how could I use this note book? Is there any catches about that?"

He replied,

"You can use it any way you want! But you can not kill me. It would be wise that you read all the rules in your notebook before you do anymore damage!"

What could I do with this power? Is a human even aloud to have the power of a god like this!

"Do you agree? Do you accept the responsibility of this Death Note?"

I began to shake, I was scared at the scenario and how I would use this weapon, but then it became clear.

I...cloud use this to improve the lives of my friends and family!

I could kill everyone who causes pain and suffering to them and make are lives better for everyone I know!

I could be the guardian of everyone I know!

I would make me a murderer though.

"Alex, do you accept?"

"I-"

END OF CHAPTER ONE: _Will_

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